Of Hunger and Fire
by TheSilverHairedMaiden
Summary: The Century Spectacular is among us, and your tributes are to compete in the big 100. Who will live, and who will die trying? May the odds be EVER in your favour! Romances with other entries may occur, beware! **CLOSED** Let the games begin!
1. Submitions

**Welcome, friends, to the Century Spectacular Hunger Games! 100 Years of Hunger have ravaged Panem, and now, your tributes may just change the way the Games are played forever.**

Name:

Age:

Gender:

District:

Token:

Strength:

Weakness:

Personality:

Family:

Background:

Quote for Interviews (optional):

Outfit descriptions (optional):

Reaping-

Chariot-

Interviews-

**And may the odds be **_**ever**_** in your favour!**


	2. Rules and Entries

**THE FOLLOWING IS AN IMPORTANT NOTICE OR 5. READ AND BE PATIENT.**

**Look at you, sitting there, at your computer, eagerly waiting to see how your little tribute fairs. Let me tell you one thing- this isn't just the Hunger Games. And before you're all like: "IS IT ALSO HARRY POTTER?" it's not. What it is is the century spectacular. The Game of all Games. And there is a twist around every single corner that will leave you and your characters open-mouthed and begging for the end. Let's get started, shall we? **

**THE TRIBUTES: PLEASE TELL ME IMMEDIATLY IF I HAVE MISSED ANYONE! I'M VERY SORRY BUT I HAD TO SWITCHAROO SOME PEOPLE'S DISTRICTS BECAUSE OF THIS AND THAT. I HOPE YOU DONT MIND. LET ME KNOW IF I MADE A REALLY BIG MISTAKE THAT THROWS THE CHARACTER OFF.**

**AND GEEZ THEY'RE ALL 18! 6 OF THEM! A WHOLE QUARTER! AND THE REST ARE 14 AND 17! **

**District 1: Royalty (18) Dagmar and Allure du Rouillard (18)**

**District 2: Callaway Richardson (18) and Solstice Havengrow (17)**

**District 3: Sev Karoblanche (12) and Jillian Nott (16) **

**District 4: Arryus Blackwall (17) and Aislinn Jennings (15)**

**District 5: Adrian Blackwater (15) and Tiamory Brisinger (12)**

**District 6: Leo Beowolf (18) and Constance Bronte (17) **

**District 7: Kaid Bairo (17) and Jenna Perry (13)**

**District 8: Mason Forrest (14) and Asia Weaver (13)**

**District 9: Ruzan Dusktail (17) and Altheny Pham (14)**

**District 10: Oscar Pallant (14) and Ellesmere Aceveds (18)**

**District 11: Sparrow Kingston (16) and Penny Runrose (15)**

**District 12: William Talons (14) and Veronika St. Mynerlyn (18)**

**RULES OF SPONSERING:**

**-Yes, there is sponsoring in this story. At the end of each chapter, every author may submit a single, un-extraordinary gift for EACH of your tributes, if you have more than one. **

**-Also, I know there are a few of you who like other tributes and want to team up with them. You may send that tribute a gift, too. One for each of yours, and one for an ally. Gottit? **

**-I will not accept P.M'd gifts- they must be reviews, and you must be SIGNED IN. I don't accept P.M.s because I will not allow the element of surprise, where to author's tributes are battling, and one secretly has a slingshot. This means you can read other's reviews and play strategically. I want all of you to be very involved in this- the more you play, the better your chances! **

**-No sponsoring until the Games actually start.**

**-No sending other tributes things like bombs. Also, please avoid giving them something completely useless that I won't be able to write in! I AIN'T THINKING UP CLEVER USES FOR THE PIECE OF LINT YOU SENT IN!**

**FINAL NOTE:**

**This story will be told through, of course, switching perspectives. Almost always they will be 3 per chapter. If your tribute isn't really in the chapter, please be patient. They'll show up eventually!**

**And, with all that nonsense you probably didn't read, the story begins... when I post the first chapter. **

**And may the odds be EVAAAAR in your favour! :D**

**XxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxX**


	3. Prologue

**Hey everyone! Thanks for your excitement and kind words, your tributes and tribulations. I'm excited to be writing this, and I hope you like it! **

**This is assuming both Peeta and Katniss won their Games, but there was no rebellion blah blah blah. So they're all happily traumatized at home! :D**

**SO HERE IS THE PROLOGUE THAT I DONT LIKE MUCH. **

**ONWARD! **

Prologue: Spectacular

Primrose still gets that look. Even as an adult, after years and years of all sorts of Games, she still cries at each reaping. She even goes the extra mile afterwards, helping to feed the children's families as Gale did for her and my mother. If Gale hadn't done it for her first, and I knew how it felt to want to have someone to look out for her, I probably would have frowned upon it. Of course, we weren't rich then, so maybe it's different.

Anyway, it's not even reaping day, and my sister looks fit to burst into tears at the slightest provocation. She's a full grown woman, and she still cries at everything, she's so sensitive about the Games. The required viewing announcement is to air in about a minute, and we're waiting to see what special torture this Quarter Quell brings. By now, I swear I've seen it all, some up close and personal. The Double tributes, the clock, and a few flashbacks pass through my mind and I shake them away quickly. Unlike Prim, I refuse to cry, even though I still had nightmares about the last time I watched the Quell announcement. The one that sent me back into the arena. That was the worst part- the paranoia that somehow, someway, it could happen again.

I saunter over to the plush couch beside her, between her and my mother, who grasps my hand. Every year, we watch the Games together, as an inseparable family. It's a feeling of safety. The anthem starts, and there's the good ol' president, looking luxurious and ready to be hated by citizens everywhere.

The President is telling us about the last three Quells, and what they're meant remind us of. A shiver runs through me as he explains the seventy-fifth, which was to remind us about how even the strongest couldn't overcome them. My mother gives my hand a reassuring squeeze. She knows that maybe, even though I don't show Prim, I get nervous too.

A young girl comes into the shot, and hands the President a small box. Upon opening, it's revealed the box contains many envelopes, yellowed from one hundred years' time. This is all too familiar, and I resist squeezing my eyes shut.

"This year, we are celebrating one hundred years of the Hunger Games! And to honour this glorious occasion, we are holding the Century Spectacular!" _Glorious, celebrating? _His use of the words make me sick.

"And so," He opens the envelope slowly, excruciatingly. "As a reminder that the uprising took longer for you to surrender than it needed too, these Games will be all about endurance."

Endurance, and what else? I wait for him to continue, but nothing comes. He's putting the box down and wishing Panem Happy Hunger Games.

The Games are always about endurance. You survive on no food and water for days at a time, make your own shelter and duke it out, and _that_ wasn't even what they'd call endurance? I'd certainly like to go see those capitol monsters try living like that. Hell, living here in 12 is a struggle as is, or, well, used to be.

They were hinting at these Games being the longest ever. Usually, they end up around two weeks, because people start to go feral after much longer. Maybe that's what they want this time. A bunch of kids, insane after a month of torture, with no out but to violently murder another. Still, we did that anyways. Even out of the arena, I find myself referring to tributes as "us" or "we".

"That's it?" I ask, still baffled. "There's got to be more to it than that!"

"That's the thing." Says Prim, sniffling again. "Imagine all the things they can do to drag these Games out. They're going to be the longest ever."

"But how can they do that? I mean, we decide when to kill each other, don't we? All they can do is keep them separated for longer on purpose, and then bring them all together."

"I don't know what they're going to do, but with a theme that vague, they could do anything."

She's right, and her point is scary. I think of what the physical arena will be like to accommodate the theme. If it looks like District 12, it'll make sense. We do nothing but endure here- we suck it up and grit our teeth. But in all honesty, it could be anything. I think of the year there was nothing but a large stretch of field that went on for miles. It never seemed to end, and some went crazy trying to find the edge. It promised simple, bloody hand-to-hand battles, with no trees to hide in and no escape routes. Supplies were underground, as well as some nasty surprises, but the tributes only discovered that when it practically rained weapons after a boy blew a crater (and himself) into the ground when he stepped on a landmine. Half of them died of hunger before then, and needless to say, it wasn't a very popular year.

This makes me think that maybe there are no supplies this years, but that's quickly cancelled out. It wouldn't be anything if they just sat around, one occasionally slumping over from thirst and everyone to weak to fight. So there will be supplies. There had got to be some trick to this, but what?

XXXXXXXXXXXXX

**Alrighty, that was just a wee little prologue-y thing, from Katniss's perspective because I didn't want to waste a tribute's one for something so short. I have a system worked out, and a prologue, (which I simply must include!) would throw it all off, so, there you go! **

**Leave a review if you have anything to say about my writing, or your tributes, or anything. Try and guess what the arena is! :D**


	4. Chapter 1

Chapter 1: Different yet the Same

Part 1: Motives (Solstice Havengrow)

The preparations for dinner have been made, and my hands have nothing to do. They occupy themselves by toying with a piece of fabric I found, a good, even square that had just been lying dirty ground, waiting to be picked up. It was a deep green, a favourite colour of mine. I never liked the idea of picking favourite anything, it seemed useless, but this colour stood out. It reminded me of my only friend's eyes.

I hate people, but as far as they go, she was alright. Dinah was younger than me, a kid, really, usually the kind I'd make flinch with a single glare. When we met once, at school, I did glare at her, just in passing the hall. Instead of flinching and speeding off, she marched right up to me and demanded to know what my problem was. This poor, unhealthy, underfed girl was challenging me. She was seeing the pretty, selfish, snobby girl who's too good for everyone. It was the real me- the pretty, selfish, snobby girl believes everyone is _too good for her_- that answered back.

"Who are you?" I'd asked, running through emotions. I was mad, of course, because I wasn't used to being spoken at. I was surprised and caught off guard at this, even more so, because this small, high-pitched girl was confronting me, nonetheless. The elusive, distant me. From that moment on, I decided that this one person wasn't so bad, and we slowly built a friendship. Okay, _I _was being slow- Dinah took to me like a fat kid to cookies. People talked about me a long time after we became friends, because the townspeople had known me their whole lives, and never once had they seem me with one other than a parent. I didn't care what they were saying, as usual, but it was nice to have a friend, no matter what gossip it brought.

_Those were they days_.

I sigh, placing my fabric down and staring at it.

_I miss her_.

I miss the way she clung to my arm, chatting merrily as we walked through town on sunny days. I miss the way she would whine about how I was never listening properly, when I secretly was. I miss her deep green eyes.

But she was sick. And friend or not, I couldn't do anything about it. She'd developed multiple conditions from dangerous lack of food and health benefits, and she got worse every day. One morning, I went knocking on her door, and her sobbing mother answered. Just like that, she was gone. Keeled over and died, not a single, stupid goodbye.

And I wasn't sad. I was furious. Other kids had always been the out for my anger before Dinah, but she convinced me to talk about problems instead. Now, there was no one to talk to, and I turned violent. I got in a fight with my mother, and I got reckless in my training. I physically exhausted myself; I was trying so hard to destroy things. I don't remember exactly the order of events from the time, there were so many things I did, most of which I regret. Some things happened before or after we buried her, some before or after I began training.

Not my usual stay-fit training, but the real kind. It was at her burial, looking down on her corpse, that I knew I was going to enter the Hunger Games. Whenever I felt strong enough, I would volunteer, and vent my anger the proper way, the Capitol approved way. Hell, I was torn between killing someone and killing myself anyways, may as well have some fun first. I voiced this once, in a rather uncontrolled moment of rage, to my mother. She shrieked about how terrible that was.

I still think I'm exactly how I was before Dinah, just a little more pessimistic. I'm real, and that's how it is.

I grab my cloth square again and head outside, into the rain. It's been raining for days on end now, and at this rate, they're going to need a tarp above the stage for the reaping. This is going to be my reaping.

Usually, the volunteer tributes (or what most people call here, the VT's), wait until they're eighteen to enter, because that's presumably when you're the strongest, lest you're sick and deteriorating fast. I'm only seventeen as of one week ago, on the summer solstice. The holiday I was named for, obviously. My mother told me once that she wanted to name me Sapphire. I told Dinah this once, and she said that it would suit me. I said thank goodness I was named Solstice instead.

Dinah wouldn't want me to enter the Games. That's putting it too simply, maybe. More like she'd light me on fire if I even thought about it. I never did back then, though, so she never had to worry, or take a lighter to me, for that matter. I had always liked watching victors from our district come back champions, winning food for all of us and eternal glory for them. Not to mention the money, food, and the house that could only be called a mansion. Those were pretty good too. But not worth it, they all said. Nothing could ever be worth the trauma of twenty-three deaths that could have been you, or were your fault.

Every district struggles more than the others think. The lower ones, mostly Eight through Twelve, always seem to think we have it all here. They think we eat like kings and lead lives of leisure. Truthfully, we do always look better fed than the lower districts, but only barely. The difference is we train. We exhaust ourselves physically as well as mentally, which gives us the tough, strong edge the others lack. It was realized that the more we train and look ready to play the Games, the more intimidating we are, and the more likely we will win. My mother calls it psychology, how people get into other's heads. I really don't care what it's called, as long as it works.

And that's how I know I will win. Not with psychology, but with the iron will and intimidation that came with it. I'm not the thriftiest player out there, but let it be known, I don't go down without a fight.

I have all the right motives.


	5. Chapter 2

**So here is the chapter I finally got around to writing. Don't expect fast updates, people. You will be sad. And I'm sick, so you can't kill me, okay?**

Chapter 1: Different yet the Same

Part 2: The Reaping in the Rain (Sparrow Kingston)

Every day is the same. Wake up. It rains. Get dressed. Walk outside. Plough fields until you're ready to pass out. Eat a measly piece of bread for lunch. Go back outside. Sow seeds. Plough some more. Eat stew. Ship the day's harvest. Bed.

That's why I love Reaping Day. It's a horrible thing, I know, to love something that terrible for such a selfish reason, but most people here in 11 agree. After so many months of barely dragging yourself through life, the one day off in the whole year is a blessing. That is, assuming you're not one of the poor suckers that gets Reaped. However, the odds are so unlikely of it even being someone you know at all, it's pretty much celebration day for me.

The tent is already set up in a haughty fashion that makes me grin. A wave of anger hits me as I realize I'm excited for people's near-death, and I drop my smile. I need to stop being so cruel.

Suddenly, the voice of District 11's escort, Mia Mellori, rings throughout the square, calling everyone for the Reaping.

The crowd gathers quickly seeing as nobody was too far away in the fields today. Mia smiles gently at us all. She seems like such a nice lady- natural blond hair, kind words seemingly no Capitol stereotypes at all, except her accent. It's a wonder why she would ever become something as horrible as a Games escort. Then again, looks can be deceiving.

"Ah, how wonderful to be back here in 11 for the annual Reaping! You must all be just as excited as I am!" She beams around, earning some disgusted looks that don't faze her. My point has already been proven.

"But let's not doddle! It's time to draw the girls' name!"

This is where everyone wants to throw a brick at her unaltered face. Too cheerful to be announcing an innocent young lady's death sentence.

All the legible girls are standing in a tight-knit rings, grasping hands and whimpering, until-

"Penny Runrose!"

The girls start shrieking, and one faints. I don't know this Penny Runrose, but her name's familiar. She's younger than me, I think. And her friends, the screaming girls, are huddled around who I can only presume is her. Her face is snow-white, and her lips are spread like she wants to scream, but she can't.

"Please, don't take Penny!" One girl wails. "She doesn't deserve it!"

Mia nods sadly, but gestures Penny Runrose up to the stage anyways. She breaks her friend's grips and stands motionless on the stage.

Total shock. I shake my head. Poor kid, I think.

Only now do I notice that the crowd has gone completely silent, except for her teary friends, and two people who appear to be her mother and a little brother. The mother has another little boy on her hip, just a toddler, with his face buried into her neck. I wonder how much wheat they're getting in return for their daughter's death.

Only a Capitol citizen would be shallow enough to break the mourning silence, which is exactly what Mia does.

"Congratulations, Miss Penny Runrose. I'm sure your friends and family will be happy to see you win!" I don't understand why Penny doesn't get mad. I know I am.

"Onto the boy's names, then!" Mia Mellori chimes with a swoosh of her hair. This time, people look like they're actually contemplating running her over with a wheat grinder. I'm among them. There's something different about this Reaping that makes me feel more like the others do, and that doesn't happen a lot.

I'm a master thief with a talent for filling my four younger siblings' bellies. These people aren't resourceful or impulsive like I am. They're all soft, sensitive about anything that makes their day harder. Like taking away someone who appears to be a very popular young lady.

But there's something in the air that makes me feel like them. Whatever it is, I don't want to be here anymore. I'd rather it be a normal day with all the normal hardship.

Wake up. It rains. Get dressed. Walk outside. Plough fields until you're ready to pass out. Eat a measly piece of bread for lunch. Go back outside. Sow seeds. Plough some more. Eat stew. Ship the day's harvest. Bed.

I know it's coming before it happens.

"Sparrow Kingston!" Mia shouts, looking around her whoever fits the name. And that's me. I'm Sparrow Kingston. I blame it on too much tesserae.

I can't think. My head hurts. I don't want to be here. I want to leave. Someone kill me now. Please. I'll never steal or lie again. Just don't make me go. It's amazing how fast and I can go from loving this day to hating it. I'm a hypocrite, and I'm paying for it now.

Suddenly, something slams into me, very hard, from behind. Two somethings, it turns out. Violet and Lilac, my fifteen-year-old twin sisters, are the first to find me in the chaos.

River and falcon, my little brothers, are close behind. I don't see my parents.

They envelop my in a hug, not saying a word, which helps. I wouldn't be able to deal with anything if they were screeching like Penny's admirers.

I'm in a strange state when I shake off my sisters and brothers and clamber onto the stage, ignoring the stairs. I don't feel too balanced. I'm aware of a camera being trained on my face, and now I want to both throw and brick at it _and_ chuck it in a wheat grinder.

The only sounds that are heard are crying and rain splattering against the tent.

_Pish, pish. _Haha. _Pish. _I think I'm going crazy. _Pish, pish, pish. _

So this is what Penny feels like. How stupid must we look, standing side by side on a stage in the rain, blank and insane, with a perky Capitol escort holding our hands in the air.

Finally, I look at Penny beside me. Penny looks back at me. We continue to stare for a minute. We looks at Mia when she thanks the audience. And then, before we even know it, we're being whisked away from the crowd with no chance of going back.

Everyday holds surprises. Wake up. It rains. Get dressed. Walk outside. See the tent. Watch Penny get Reaped. Get Reaped yourself. Have your heart and brain shattered. Eat nothing. Go crazy. Still raining. Pish... pish... pish.

**So that was the chapter that took months to churn out. Reviews are loved. **


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